Do You Believe in Santa?

One year, several weeks before Christmas, my children and I were in the car getting ready to go Christmas shopping. My son was about six years old and my daughter was about three years old. Out of the blue, my son confidently said,


“Mommy, I know there isn't a Santa Claus. It's you and daddy.”



Saddened from hearing this and because I didn't want the Santa experience spoiled for my daughter, I quickly replied,


Oh really?” Did you know that when you stop believing in Santa, he stops coming?”


My son's eyes became huge and with complete sincerity, he promptly answered,


“OH, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE!!”


I have often wondered, why believe in Santa Claus?


When I was little, I loved believing this jolly, round man left me gifts under the Christmas tree. I always knew the true meaning of Christmas had nothing to do with Santa Claus, but to me, he was a wonderful old man that made Christmas “magical.”


I cherish all the memories of my children and their Santa Claus experience, just as I treasure my childhood memories of my Santa Claus experience.


Santa Claus ignites the fuel to our Christmas imagination with child-like magic, enchantment and joyful anticipation. Santa Claus teaches us the importance of giving and the fun of receiving. To me, he brings out the better part of ourselves. He brings out our child-like innocence.


Not believing in Santa was not an option in our home. So, if anyone asks me if I believe in Santa Claus, I will whole heartedly reply,


“I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE!”

 

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Christmas Memories

Childhood memories of Christmas Past come to me with great pleasure this time every year.


One of my favorite Christmas memories, happened each year, when I was a little girl, when the much anticipated, the Christmas Edition of the Sears and Roebuck Catalog, arrived in the mail. This treasured catalog was a gift in itself. The first half was filled with clothing and other items of human need, but the second half was filled with nothing but the wonderful world of Toys. How wonderful it was to spend time in the magical toyland of the Sears and Roebuck Christmas Catalog.

My mother would hand me this catalog and tell me to pick out “one” toy for Christmas. It was very difficult to pick out just one item! Adding to the difficulty was the fact that this toy could not be over $20.

Years ago, there were no toy stores like there are today. Money wasn’t easily attainable for young parents raising their families (at least not for our family). Toys were a luxury that were given only at Christmas. Sometimes we would receive a toy for our birthday, but usually we were given clothes on our birthday. Growing children always needed new clothes. However, at Christmas, we were assured of receiving a toy. This one toy had to be the absolute perfect one because there would not be another toy until next Christmas.

Immediately upon the arrival of the Sears and Roebuck Christmas Edition catalog my search for that one perfect toy would begin. I was allowed to change my mind as many times as I wanted as long as I made up my mind two weeks before Christmas; enough time for me to write Santa with my “What I Want for Christmas” letter. (And, of course Santa got his toys from Sears and Roebucks).

I spent hours of my day combing through the toy section of this catalog developing my mental “wish list.” Many times I made up my mind on which toy I wanted only to change it again in a few days. Thinking back on this, I feel sure the main reason I kept changing my mind was because I didn’t want to end the joy of searching for that one perfect toy.

Both of my grandmothers would join us for our Christmas Eve gathering, where we shared a meal of turkey and dressing with all the trimmings. After the meal, the dishes were cleared and cleaned (no automatic dishwashers back then). With the dishes cleaned, it was time to open gifts that were exchanged among family members. The evening would be filled with ooouuus, aaahhhs, laughter, gratitude and love for our gifts, and for each other. I remember one gift I received from my paternal grandmother was a large teddy bear, which I loved and cherished for many years.

Santa would not come unless we were tucked in our beds and fast asleep. This was Santa’s magic hour; the hour in which he came and ate his cookies and milk while filling our stockings with oranges, apples, and candy, and leaving our much anticipated and longed for gifts underneath the twinkling tree.

At the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, four excited little children with bed-head hair and sleepy eyes would scream and laugh with excitement and joy as we all claimed our stockings and our cherished toys.

~~~~~~~~~~

Would you like to share some of your cherished (or not cherished) Christmas or any other traditional celebration memories, or any special memory? If so, write your “favorite memory” post, link it to this post and put your url in a comment to me on my post (please). Also, tag your posts with Favorite Memories so we can all read and share each other’s stories.

If you receive an email of my posts, look at the bottom of that email and you will find my url. (If you don’t receive an email, once I have published this post, I will come back and update it with my url).

my url: https://pricelessjoy.co/2014/12/14/christmas-memories/

Is there Really a Santa?

Sweet Little Lies

As kids, we’re told, time and again, that lying is wrong. Do you believe that’s always true? In your book, are there any exceptions? ~ The Daily Post Writing Prompt Dec 12, 2014

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/sweet-little-lies/

http://wp.me/p23sd-zZc

 

When my children were small and during the time we were making preparations for Christmas, a hic-up occurred in our “almost perfect,” Christmas plans.

My two children and I were in my car preparing to go shopping. My son, six years old at the time, informed me,

“Mommy, I know there really isn’t a Santa Claus, it is you and daddy.”

Instantly, warning bells began ringing between my ears. (My three year old daughter was in the car).

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.”

What do I say? Do I tell him that Santa Claus is his mommy and daddy, thus ruining the Santa Claus experience for my daughter? Should I lie? Should I not lie? Is it a lie?

I sat there quietly for a moment. Then I turned to him and replied,

“Really? Did you know that when you stop believing in Santa, he stops coming?”

His little eyes grew huge. Without skipping another beat, he excitedly answered,

“OH, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE!”

Is it a lie? I think not.

Photo from Pinterest

He looks real to me!